The 100th Games: Image Is Everything
by Blue Eyes Arch Angel
Summary: 'Our self image, strongly held, essentially determines what we become'-Maxwell Maltz SYOT


I just can't help but admire President Snow, though why I do is somewhat indeterminable. It could be her beauty, with the long luscious white hair that reaches her ankles, that ivory skin, pale blue eyes that gaze softly but holds ten times the strength of steel. Maybe it's the way she moves, elegant like a swan yet with all the intimidation of a soldier. But then again, it could be her personality. That admirable mental strength coupled with the delicate voice of an angel, the way she reluctantly but honourably took the place of her grandfather Cornelius to rule over our glorious nation. Yes, I think that's it. I've always had respect for our former president as much as I do for his daughter.

It's so very hard not to speak whilst she checks over her looks in the mirror. Though she's never normally a vain person, the president is one that must ensure she is perfect when addressing the entire nation of Panem. She fiddles with the dress a little more, then the pale blue hair flower and finally she sighs and her shoulders drop in relaxation.

"Cedra?" my lady requests.

"Yes Miss Snow?"

"I've told you before, do call me Claudia"

"Of course Miss Claudia, what is it you wanted?"

She doesn't turn her face, but she continues to speak in her quiet tone.

"This is the first quarter quell since the failure of the 75th games, you recall why?" she asks. I tense up at the subject. The failed games aren't something that is normally discussed so openly. They're often spoken in hushed tones, for fear the story might entice another rebellion. But this is my lady and my president asking so I must reply.

"It was the victors quell. The two district twelve tributes, Katniss and Peeta, had by this point become the symbols of a soon to be uprising. Unbeknownst to our president, those working around him and with the two tributes had become part of this rebellion. Stylists like Cinna betrayed their nation. Several tributes were evacuated by the rebels from the arena and taken to the underground district 13. However, by this point our president had gathered enough Intel about this, and bombed district 13 nice the tributes were delivered, thus eliminating the problem. District 12 were never given their punishment however, as President Snow died shortly from old age" and thus I conclude.

"I'm impressed by your knowledge Cedra, but then again that is why I hired you as my personal assistant." she says with a little giggle, but as she twirls round her face grows solemn again.

"Though my grandfather never delivered those punishments, I did. District twelve's security has increased ten-fold, with far stricter orders. Do you think that is fair Cedra?"

"Of course Miss Claudia"

Miss Claudia smiles slightly. My lady steps closer towards, until we are but three steps apart. Her hands are folded behind her back, and posture not rigid but with the elegance of a noble stone statue. Her eyes become lazily trained on mine.

"Cedra, I have a couple of last questions for you before we go live, firstly what is your opinion of the rebels? You can tell me, I promise not to gossip"

I trust my lady wholly so I answer.

"I do believe they were on the wrong tracks, they were a danger to their own friends and family as well as the capitol"

"And the capitol assistants?"

"They were misguided, but all the same were betraying their own people"

She nods, showing nothing. Claudia steps closer.

"My final question, how far would you follow me as my assistant?"

That's not a difficult question. I love my lady. She is my idol.

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth Miss, always ready to carry out your orders"

It takes a second for her to fully take in what I say, but then she nods. A sudden creak of the door alerts the both of us however.

"President Snow, Miss Cedra, five minutes until we are live"

They leave, and Claudia faces me again.

"It seems we must be starting. Come, let's get this over with" she mutters. She brushes down her hair, straightens up and looks to me. Taking the hint, I open to door myself and let her glide through, with myself trailing behind.

The cheers are immense, noise erupting from the brightly coloured wave of capitol citizens below. Claudia waves to them to satisfy their lust for approval. There are cameras either side and to the front of the three people on this balcony. That includes myself, the president and a young man holding the quarter quell box. It takes nearly ten minutes (all of which is filmed) for the roaring to cease. The young man with the box steps up to President Snow, but oddly she shakes her hand and pushes it away. Confused, he steps back and satisfied our president turns to face the cameras again.

"It is that time of year once again Panem when the long awaited hunger games draw close, and this year is particularly special indeed, for it is the quarter. We remember the past quells-for the 25th games the tributes were voted into the games, the 50th games delivered us twice as many tributes and the 75th was the victors quell, a quell upon which disaster fell"

A few murmurs rush through the crowd but unfazed she continues.

"We all know that even citizens of our beloved capitol betrayed their own people. However as my grandfather, the previous president, died too soon after they went unpunished. This brings me to this year's quell. It will not be a random selection from the box. Instead I already have a quell which will be instated, which is this: To remind those in the capitol who work around tributes that they are simply ours to use-they are not to be pitied or admired-those in professions that prepare tributes for the games will be the ones now reaped"

Silence sweep over the nation, but far from here in the district they must be cheering, screaming with joy. Things here take a turn for the worse when the screams of fear begin. I recognise a few of them down in the crowd, stylists and escorts wild eyed and frenzied. President Snow just watches on, emotionless.

"Thank you, that will be all" she finishes with, turning to leave. Instinctively I follow her back to the office. I shut the door behind, but that doesn't block out the screams and shouts. My lady places herself down and the desk, not lifting her head.

"Take note Cedra, the citizens in these professions eligible for this quell will be the following: Escorts, stylists, prep team members, tribute trainers and game-makers"

"Yes miss, I'll inform them of that now" I answer back, but before I leave I decide to give my lady my last opinion of what's happened here.

"And just for the record Miss Claudia, this changes nothing. I'll still follow you. Even until death if need be"

She lifts her head solemnly, like one who has just received the most severe of penalties.

"I know Cedra, I know"

* * *

**And it's back! Sorry for the long break from this,but it's back and ready to go! And it's better than ever (so says my mad friend :p),but I cannot wait to get this going again :)**

**However,there are still 5 tribute spaces open,so feel free to submit a tribute so we can get the official reapings started!**

**Thanks for reading**

**~Blue Eyes~**


End file.
